


forever is a long time, but i wouldn't mind

by Magepaw



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Childhood Friends, Disturbing Themes, Dog Jokes, Dreamsharing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Idiots in Love, Insecurity, Iwaizumi Hajime Swears, Jealous Oikawa Tooru, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plants, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Werewolves, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magepaw/pseuds/Magepaw
Summary: The boy squinted at the jar in his hands and asked, "Your mom is a plant witch, right?"Tooru nodded. "She's really good," he boasted. "She helps people all around the world.""Are you a witch, too?"Tooru hesitated. Then slowly, deflating, he shook his head no.An Iwaoi story about growing up, being perfectly ordinary in a small town filled with magic, and slowly falling in love with your best friend. Also said best friend happens to be a werewolf, and refuses to turn you into a werewolf no matter how many times you ask him nicely, so really he's kind of a jerk, but you'll forgive him. Maybe.





	forever is a long time, but i wouldn't mind

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!! This was started for the time-honored tradition of [iwaoi horror week](https://iwaoi-horror-week.tumblr.com/) but it ran wildly away from me and morphed into something gigantic but much softer and gentler than I was actually intending it to be...... the [otp](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=1329922&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Miyukitty) got me good this time....... tagged for some blood and plant and transformation things towards the end though, it's still me we're talking about!! 
> 
> note this doesn't take place in Japan, it's a fantasy setting ~~definitely not based on where the author grew up~~ , but honorifics were left in the dialogue bc it feels awkward to have iwaoi without them?? iwachan...
> 
> title from [i wouldn't mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSjDXxN09A8) ;w; fanart linked in the end notes!!

 

 

Oikawa Tooru was born to a long line of green witches. He had always known this simple truth, mostly because no one in this small of a country town ever bothered to keep their secrets from each other. Wild magic dwelled in the hills and the spirit forest that surrounded them, calling to their kind. It was why families like theirs drifted here, drawn to the solitude away from the prying eyes and unforgiving streets of cities. They had no cell phone reception, no buses or trains out, no easy way to contact the outside world from within their bubble. Tooru had grown up with magic all around him, which to him made it seem perfectly ordinary, and certainly not a thing that should ever be hidden.

 

When they moved in, their neighbors were quick to gossip about the supernatural origins of the Oikawa family's collective beauty and green thumbs, so they wouldn't have been surprised to learn how many generations of green magic flowed in their veins. The charismatic single mother and her picture-perfect children all had flawless hair no matter how windy the day or late the hour, naturally straight teeth in their repertoire of dazzling smiles, and warm yet clever eyes that could read a person inside and out with just a glance. And then there was the grandness of their ever-expanding garden, which – despite having the same soil as everyone else on the block – covered their modest home with sprawling vines, the trees bowing in deference and weaving their limbs into archways and secret paths, and the most incredible flowers bursting into wild color no matter the season. But somehow, they fit right in as if they'd always lived there. Tooru's mother brought every house on their street the most fanciful of bouquets to celebrate each solstice, and read their tea leaves when they came over to have a cup and chat, and happily gave them advice about potted plants and lawn care, and soon no one could remember a time before the Oikawas were one of them.

 

Tooru had been a toddler when they moved in, shy around strangers at first but eager to show off how many flowers he could name once he came out from behind his mother's skirts. The neighbors loved his beaming smile, and all got in the habit of spoiling him, much to his mother's chagrin. It was just the three of them in this old house as far back as he could remember. Tooru got himself involved in the family business as soon as he was able to perceive that he was being left out of something important that his sister got to do. Before he even started kindergarten, bright little Tooru had been enlisted with the very important task of licking stamps and sticking address labels to the daily stack of envelopes they stuffed into their rickety old mailbox.

 

His sister, already in junior high, had the equally important job of gathering ingredients from the yard for the orders placed through their mother's website, which was their main source of income. She usually complained about having more interesting ways to spend her afternoons than playing fetch. Inevitably their mother tired of bickering against her teenage hormones and let her go off to do whatever it was she did with the kids her age in town. Proudly, Tooru would puff out his chest and scoot his kitchen stool closer to his mother, because _he_ was more useful as a helper.

 

His mother's hands were magic. It might have been their normal, but he never grew bored of watching her long fingers expertly craft charms and weave minor enchantments over them, whatever her clients had ordered.

 

"What's that one do," he asked eagerly, eyes bright with boundless curiosity.

 

"This is to attract money, for someone who needs it," his mother patiently explained, twisting a fresh sprig of basil with a green ribbon around a gold coin taken from a crow's nest. And – "This is for a couple that wants to have a baby," she said, smiling softly as she showed him the spider's silk she'd woven into the soft cloth bag that smelled pleasantly like cinnamon bark and summer dew. Or – "This is for a student trying to pass their exams, because it's very important to do well in school, Tooru-chan," she impressed upon him, and only once he'd solemnly promised to be good did she show him the way she'd folded parchment paper into the shape of a star, around a pinch of poppy seeds and a rabbit's whisker at the core.

 

But most often, his mother would say, "This is for someone who is lonely and needs love in their life." Love spells were her best seller, and her most effective. Her elegant fingers tucked red rose petals into the little sachet already stuffed to the brim with aromatic herbs and a smooth pebble plucked from the stone path where her children played, which she told Tooru was a symbolic piece of her own heart. She always spent more time on charms for the lonely, Tooru had observed, like she was making sure it was perfect in every way.

 

Grownups seemed to have trouble holding onto any kind of love for long, according to her. Tooru, adored by all throughout his young life, had no way to comprehend a life without enough love.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Do they really work? Do those people get more money, and good luck, and all that?" Tooru blurted one day at the table, his inquisitiveness growing faster than the answers could keep up.

 

His mother had paused, fingers stilling over the ribbon she was holding. She pursed her lips in thought. There was never any doubt in his mind that his mother had magic in her – only the curiosity that a handful of leaves picked from outside his house mailed to a complete stranger could somehow make their wishes come true.

 

"There's no substitute for hard work," she said finally, and resumed tying the ribbon around her charm. "I believe people can do anything they put their minds to. And my magic can help attract the right kind of energy they need to flourish. But sometimes spells fail because people just want an easy fix, and the problems they're having are things they need to fix themselves. They have to put their effort, and their intentions, into it too. My magic isn't a shortcut. They still have to try hard."

 

Tooru crinkled his nose. He didn't really get what she meant, but he nodded as if he did. She always talked a lot about the importance of hard work and good intentions, how effort to improve oneself was always worth it, how _talent is something you make bloom_. She said it a lot to his sister especially, because she needed to get her grades up but called studying a waste of time. Tooru always did his best, but it was the patience part he lacked. He hated waiting to see results. A magical shortcut sounded appealing.

 

His mother's smile quirked slyly as if she guessed what he was thinking, and she ruffled his hair to make him squirm. "Don't forget that when you're older. Now, this last task I have for you is very special. So special, that only a very special boy can deliver it for me in person. Do you think you can handle it?"

 

Tooru scrambled off his stool and stood as tall as he could manage. At freshly seven years old this wasn't very impressive, but he had plans to get much taller soon, so his sister wouldn't be able to call him a shrimp anymore.

 

His mother pressed a heavy glass jar into his waiting arms. "We have new next-door neighbors, and this is a housewarming present for them. They have a little boy around your age, and I'd like for you to meet him."

 

Tooru's eyes lit up. "Did you read that in your tea leaves?" he asked hopefully. "Is he going to be my friend?"

 

His mother laughed indulgently. "No, I met the Iwaizumi family this morning while you were watching cartoons. His parents said it was fine if you wanted to come over for a bit in the afternoon, once they were done with the moving van."

 

"Are you coming too?"

 

"No, I have to do some web work for a bit. I know you'll be brave for me. I want you to deliver this all by yourself. Be good, Tooru-chan."

 

As she turned to her computer, Tooru gazed reverently at the jar, careful not to shake it and disturb the contents. It was filled with sea salt and a few sprigs of plants he recognized from the garden – lavender flowers, basil leaves, a spray of pine – and maybe a few he didn't, which made it all feel very powerful and mysterious. She had also tied it with a nice ribbon that had a card attached, for the grownups to read. _Iwaizumi_ , he read carefully.

 

His mother liked them already, if she had made them a gift this nice. This was very important. Tooru rushed to put his sneakers on, although he had to redo the laces several times because his excited fingers made a mess of the knots. He stepped out the door and into the long shadows of the garden, cradling the precious cargo close to his heart so he couldn't drop it. He paused for just one moment, crouching in the shade of the big oak tree where the wild mint leaves grew. They were his favorites. His mother made them into tea that they shared together, and so to him, wherever they grew always smelled like home. On some impulse or instinct he couldn't explain, he plucked a stem of them, and tucked it under the ribbon of the jar. Maybe now their new home would smell like his.

 

Then he stood quickly and continued his flight, picking his way under the vines and archways of the garden as he made his way to the Iwaizumi household for the very first time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tooru's winning smile faltered when the wild boy opened the door, his parents nowhere to be found.

 

The neighbor boy stood about his height, with a crop of dark spiky hair and sharp green eyes narrowed in suspicion. He wore a tattered tank top and shorts, his bare skin tanned by the summer sun and smudged with dirt and bruises. He looked mean, Tooru judged in an instant, and hunched his shoulders up in wary defense. He had been prepared to speak to a grownup, which was easy – they would call him charming, or polite, or adorable, and he would smile, and they would fawn over him, and that was just the way things were supposed to be for him. He wasn't so certain what to say to someone his own age, not without adults to steer their conversation. His smile had no effect. So he shifted his weight from foot to foot, and said nothing at all.

 

The sulky boy also said nothing. He just stood there and glared, as if daring him to speak first.

 

_Be good, Tooru-chan._

Tooru's fake smile strained wider. He thrust the jar forward in silent offering.

 

Immediately the boy screwed up his face and recoiled from it, sneezing violently. "What's that supposed to be? It smells awful," the boy blurted, his eyes watering, and wiped his runny nose on his arm.

 

"No it doesn't." Tooru hugged the jar to his chest defensively, lip jutting in a mulish pout. He was wrong. It smelled nice, like flowers. Like mint. Like home. He suddenly felt less like a special hero delivering magic, and more like an awkward kid holding a weird jar filled with salt. "It's from my mom to your mom. It's a gift," he explained slowly, trying to regain his lost footing. "It's, um. It's a charm."

 

"A charm? What's it for," the boy countered. His nose was all red, and he was scowling like it was Tooru's intention to make him sneeze all along.

 

"Um… it makes your house happy. It's full of nice stuff," Tooru said, voice small. He wasn't entirely sure how it was supposed to work beyond that. That didn't make it sound very cool.

  

"Is that salt?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Salt kills ghosts, right? I saw that on a TV show."

 

"Yeah?" Tooru shrugged, although he really didn't know anything about ghosts, or why this mean boy wanted to hurt them, or whether it was possible to kill something that was already a dead thing. He had more questions now.

 

The boy seemed satisfied, however, and finally reached out to accept the housewarming present. Tooru felt his shoulders straighten a little, hopeful. At the very least, he could go home now and tell his mother he'd completed his mission. He had been good.

 

Then after a beat, the boy squinted at the jar in his hands and asked, "Your mom is a plant witch, right?"

 

Tooru nodded. "She's really good," he boasted. "She helps people all around the world."

 

"Are you a witch, too?"

 

Tooru hesitated. Then slowly, deflating, he shook his head _no_.

 

"Why not?" the boy demanded. His gaze was interested, focused on Tooru. Intense. He put the forgotten jar in the corner near the coat rack for his parents to find later, and returned to stare expectantly.

 

"Boys can't be witches. Only girls can," Tooru said finally, trying to imitate the haughty way his sister said it whenever she reminded him, as if this was the most obvious fact in the world. He scuffed his sneaker against the welcome mat, looking down. He felt very small.

 

"Why?"

 

"I dunno. It's not a rule, it's how we're born. My mom is a witch, and my grandma is a witch, and grandma's mom is a witch, and that's how it always is. Magic only comes to girls."

 

"Not all magic."

 

"Witch magic does."

 

"Can't you be a wizard?"

 

"That's a different thing. I'm not from a wizard family."

 

"Do you want to be a witch?"

 

Tooru struggled for a long moment. His throat felt tighter than it was supposed to. He wasn't sure if he liked this mean boy or not. It kind of felt like he was being made fun of, maybe. But he wasn't sure what it was like to make friends his age, either. He wasn't sure how he felt talking about any of this, all jumbled up inside.

 

"…Yeah."

 

"Then that's not very fair."

 

Tooru's hands twisted the hem of his shirt. His eyes stung. He wanted to hold it back but it tumbled out of him at once anyway, the words quick and hot and frustrated as he fought back tears.

 

"Yeah! It's not fair! It's not fair at all! Nee-chan gets to be a witch and she doesn't even want to! She wants to live in the city, but I don't get to have any magic at all just because I'm a boy! I would be so good at it, too, I know it! And I keep waiting, and waiting, but it never comes to me!"

 

Tooru didn't realize he was shouting until he felt how warm his cheeks had grown. He sniffled loudly, shame overwhelming him. He was about to turn and run back for the safety of his house when the boy grabbed his arm, looking guilty. His hands were rougher than Tooru was used to. It startled him into silence.

 

"Stay with me," the boy said, a little too quickly. "I don't have a sister or a brother to play with. And my parents are busy unpacking so they told me to stay out of the way. I'm bored."

 

Tooru snuffled into his sleeve, feeling sorry for himself. Now his nose was runny and ugly red too. They sort of matched, in a woeful way.

 

"Okay," he agreed with a wobble in his voice. "What do you want to play? Iwa… chan?"

 

"Iwaizumi Hajime," the boy corrected with a frown, squaring his shoulders importantly.

 

"Iwa-chan," Tooru repeated, more firmly. "I'm Oikawa Tooru."

 

"'Kawa…" Hajime repeated, as if he was trying to come up with a nickname but had nothing to add on. "Tooru," Hajime huffed in annoyance, but tugged on his sleeve, dragging him to the backyard.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was after dark when the Iwaizumi family walked Tooru home, and stayed for dinner because their kitchen was still in boxes. The muddy boys raced each other to the bathroom to wash up, as the grownups talked in the other room. Tooru felt giddy. He was hardly afraid of a little dirt, not as a gardener's son, but he had grown very accustomed to playing quietly by himself. He didn't ever want to disturb his mother when she was on the computer, and woe betide anyone who interrupted his sister while she was on the phone.

 

The way Hajime played was freeing, in a way he hadn't realized until now that he'd been holding himself back. They shrieked as loudly as they wanted, climbed over all the rocks in the backyard, competed to see who could dig the biggest hole, and threw worms at each other when they found them. Tooru, softhearted, made a point to gather all the worms and tuck them safely back in the soil when they were done, which made Hajime tease him until his ears burned pink. Hajime told him he liked to find big bugs in the forest behind his grandparents' house, like crawly centipedes and shiny shelled beetles, and he wanted to go exploring here, and if Tooru wanted to come along they could go together.

 

Tooru's cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He had completely forgotten about crying earlier. Even now, jostling on the stepstool for his place at the bathroom sink, Hajime was grinning at him, and Tooru was grinning back, and the fluttery feeling in his chest just wouldn't go away. This must be was what it was like to have a friend. He felt a brief flicker of understanding for his headstrong sister then – always fighting to go out and play with her friends instead of being stuck at home. Was this what she had, and he had been missing?

 

They settled in at the table, tucking into their food with voracious appetite. In between mouthfuls, Tooru stole glances at Hajime's parents, deep in conversation with Tooru's mother. His first impression of them was something earthy. Not like the flowing shades of calming green his mother wore, or the daring thorns hidden in his sister's rosy smile; the Oikawas were all garden flowers, refined and domesticated. Iwaizumi's family was more like the woods out back, something darker and tangled and _wilder_. Hajime's mother had hair as short as he did, cropped for convenience, short and dark but curly where his was spiky. Her face was soft and rounded but her smile matched Hajime's, aggressive and adventurous and full of teeth. He peeked curiously at her rugged husband, a broad-shouldered barrel of a man with scruffy brown hair, but ducked back shyly to look at his plate when the man caught his gaze and winked. Hajime looked a lot like both of them, Tooru thought curiously, except Hajime was practically vibrating with energy in his seat, and his parents looked so tired they were stifling yawns between every sentence.

 

It was later that night, when everyone had gone home and Tooru was dutifully washing the dishes, that he braved the question.

 

"Mom… is Iwa-chan's mom a witch, too? What's her magic like?"

 

He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had no natural sense of these things, but he was observant, and he saw the way the two mothers got along so easily, the best of friends as quickly as he and Hajime had bonded. There was definitely some kind of magic talk going on – he had overheard snippets about a power cycle, a custom tea blend his mother would make for the couple, and how she could _help_. But if she was a witch, she wasn't the same kind as the Oikawas, and then Hajime would have known about the birthright he'd been denied for being male. His mother smiled knowingly, but didn't reply right away, pausing to choose her words.

 

"It's not my place to tell you that. Although I expect you'll find out soon enough from Hajime-chan," she finally hedged. "You two seem like you'll be spending a lot of time together. Why don't you ask him and see if he's ready to share?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took all of a week before Tooru learned the truth about the Iwaizumi family. He came over every sunny summer afternoon like clockwork, after finishing his chores in the garden and helping mail the daily charm orders. They weren't allowed to leave the backyard but Hajime was always eager to run around and climb trees, or wrestle, or play ball – he played _rough_ , like he couldn't control his own strength, and more than once he knocked Tooru down hard enough to make him sniffle and scold him. But it was never long before Tooru was bright and smiling again, scrambling over the rocks and daring Hajime to try and catch him. He always did. Hajime was naturally more athletic, and was going to be great at sports once school started up again.

 

Tooru was always too distracted by Hajime's boundless energy, his drive, his constant need to move forward, to ever remember the question he'd been too upset to ask when they first met: _Are you magic?_

That night, when Tooru lay awake staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling, he realized something was off. The crickets had gone silent. Moonlight spilled into his bedroom, coating every familiar shape and surface in his bedroom in unfamiliar silver. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting.

 

Then there came a terrible rending noise outside that made him jump. It was loud and close through his open window, the sound of wet tearing and a dreadful _crunching_. The warm air was filled with the sound of a beast snarling, like an angry dog tied on a chain – like Irihata-san's dog at the end of the street, who always barked at Tooru when he walked by and made him nervous.

 

Tooru scowled at the ceiling, and pulled his blanket over his head. He was a little uncomfortable around dogs. He didn't like the idea of one living so close to him. Especially not one that sounded so _mean_. He didn't want to know what the ripping sound had been. Actually… Tooru sat up quickly as the growling turned into a stuttering howl. It sounded like the Iwaizumi family's backyard. Had they gotten a dog?

 

Tooru had just been over that afternoon and no one said anything to him. Not a single word of warning. Something heavy sank in his chest, and he buried his face moodily into the pillow. If Hajime had a new dog, he would want to play with it more than he'd play with Tooru. Not to mention Tooru wouldn't want to go over as often. The dog would probably hate him and try to chase him away like Irihata's Akita did. And it was so, so loud. Tooru squeezed the blanket tighter over his head, trying to drown out the noisy howling to no avail.

 

When sleep finally claimed Tooru, he dreamed of a humongous black dog with too many teeth. It dug holes in the family garden and ate all his mint plants until there were none left. When his dream self finally tried to confront the shadowy monster, he watched from outside of his body as the dog caught him in its cavernous jaws, shook him until he fell apart into a hundred pieces, and devoured his jealous heart.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Tooru marched over with the toughest scowl he could manage. He stomped his feet and swung his arms, trying to look mean. He needed to be strong. He wasn't scared, not of his dream and certainly not of what he'd find. He wouldn't lose his best friend to some smelly _dog_.

 

He knocked imperiously on the door and waited for Hajime to answer him.

 

He waited. And waited. Impatiently, Tooru knocked louder.

 

"I know you're in there, Iwa-chan!" he hollered. He wanted his voice to sound booming and angry, but it came out more whiny than he'd meant it to.

 

After what felt like an eternity, it was Hajime's bleary-eyed father who answered the door. Tooru shrank to nothing under the grownup's grumpy stare. It seemed he'd woken them from their afternoon nap. Of course, if the barking had kept Tooru awake, it had obviously been disruptive to the Iwaizumi family's sleep too. He swallowed nervously.

 

"Hajime-chan doesn't want to play today," his dad said, though not unkindly. "He's not feeling well. Please come back tomorrow, Tooru-chan."

 

"He was up all night playing without me, wasn't he," Tooru accused suddenly, politeness forgotten. His hands balled into frustrated fists at his side. "Why did you have to get a dog!"

 

His father's expression flickered, like he was uncertain how to respond to this righteous indignation. "We don't have any pets," he started, then stopped.

 

Tooru felt his mouth twist into a pout, chin jutting stubbornly. He wanted to see Iwa-chan. He was not used to being rejected.

 

Understanding settled over his father's sympathetic features, and he invited Tooru inside, and sat him down on the couch with Hajime's mother so the three of them could have a grownup talk about moon phases. Tooru listened with rapt attention, eyes wide and shining, and agreed not to tell anyone at school about what they discussed. It was the first time magic had been a secret kept from him, and while he didn't understand why it had to be kept a secret, now he was forever a part of it, and that soothed some of the sting of being sent home by himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a full day later, but Hajime still looked like death. Tooru fidgeted in the doorway of his bedroom, holding a warm cup of tea as a peace offering.

 

Hajime was dreadfully pale and cold, all the sunlight drained from his sallow skin. Dark hollows made his tired eyes appear sunken in his face. It was the utter opposite of his usual vitality – all the energy he usually overflowed with had been sapped from his body, leaving him small and still. Even in the summer warmth, he curled in his heavy blankets like a nest, visibly shivering.

 

"I know you're a werewolf. Your mom and dad told me so," Tooru whispered.

 

Hajime said nothing to deny it. He lay silent and glaring, waiting for a verdict. Maybe he thought Tooru would be scared of him. Tooru smiled in relief.

 

It wasn't that Hajime had a dog; Hajime _was_ a dog. This distinction, to him at least, made a lot more sense (and was vastly preferable). Hajime was still his best friend and he had nothing to be jealous of and now he was going to take care of him and make him better again. He hurried closer, eager to help.

 

"I brought some tea to make you feel better. It's the kind my mom makes me when I get sick."

 

Hajime wrinkled his nose. "Smells like toothpaste," he complained.

 

Tooru scoffed. "It's mint from our garden! It's not toothpaste mint."

 

"Smells like you," Hajime mumbled drowsily, nuzzling his face deeper beneath his blankets.

 

Tooru set the tea down to cool on the nightstand next to the Godzilla alarm clock, sat down on the bed without asking, and wiggled closer to Hajime's prone form. When no protest was voiced, Tooru reached out and petted Hajime's fluffy hair. His mother did that when he wasn't feeling well, and so he felt like it was the appropriate response. He had expected the spiky hair to be bristly to the touch, but instead it was soft and feather-light. He wondered if that was what his fur felt like, when he was a dog.

 

Hajime made a soft grumble under his breath, but allowed it, hunched shoulders relaxing. 

 

For a time they were quiet. Tooru began to feel a little drowsy himself in the ambient warmth. When his fingers got tired of petting Hajime's hair, he draped his arm over the blanket lump, and snuggled into the curve of Hajime's back. The boys dozed off easily, calmed by the comforting rhythm of each others' breathing. Neither of them dreamed.

 

When he drifted back into wakefulness, Tooru wasn't sure how long they napped. He couldn't see the clock face from here. The tea had long gone cold. He shook Hajime's shoulder, easing him awake.

 

"Iwa-chan… Iwa-chaaan," Tooru called in a sing-song voice. "About you being a werewolf. Um. I think you should bite me," he trailed into a whisper.

 

Hajime rolled over, face emerging reluctantly from the blanket nest. He looked at Tooru for a long moment, brows furrowed, serious and still. Tooru waited nervously. Then, obligingly, the boy leaned close and chomped on Tooru's skinny shoulder. He shrieked and batted Hajime away, clutching his sore arm with a betrayed expression.

 

"That hurt, Iwa-chan! You really bit me!"

 

"You told me to," Hajime shrugged, like it was no big concern.

 

"I think you left a mark," Tooru whined, rubbing his shoulder.

 

Hajime made a show of rolling his eyes. "Crybaby," he muttered. "I didn't even bite that hard."

 

"I meant like… you should turn me into a werewolf. That's a real thing, right? Like on TV?" Tooru ventured hopefully. His arm was really sore. That didn't count though, did it?

 

Hajime sighed and flopped back onto the pillow. "Yeah. My parents are super strict about it though. It's a really big deal, y'know? I'm a wolf because my mom and dad are. But if I turned someone, they wouldn't have parents to teach them how it works. They would be my _responsibility_." He dragged out the last word, as though he'd been lectured about it one too many times.

 

Tooru crinkled his nose. "So… you'll just teach me. Easy."

 

Hajime groaned. "Hell no," he said, making Tooru squawk indignantly. "That's way too much work."

 

"But then we can run around together as wolves! We'll always be able to play together. And even if we both get tired after, we can nap together like this," Tooru pleaded. "Pleeease?"

 

"You want to be anything because you can't be a witch," Hajime pointed out.

 

"Mean, Iwa-chan!!"

 

"You don't actually know anything about it though. Mom says if you turn someone, they're yours forever. Like Dad. And anyway, you can only do that on a full moon. I'd have to be a wolf for it to do anything," Hajime countered.

 

So he'd have to wait a whole month at least, Tooru thought glumly. And then, his mother's words echoed: _magic isn't a shortcut_. Tooru scrunched his nose in annoyance. He hated waiting to be special. How much longer would he have to wait to have magic of his own?

 

"Iwa-chan is just being stingy," he muttered, to which Hajime shoved him off the side of the bed. He thudded to the floor, yelping indignantly.

 

"Sucks to be you, Witchykawa," Hajime grinned, and stuck out his tongue.

 

Tooru scrambled back up and wiggled his way into the pillow space. They wrestled briefly, but Hajime relented because he was much too tired to put up a fight, and Tooru much too persistent to be dissuaded. Victorious, Tooru wrapped his arms around Hajime's midsection and hugged him as tightly as he could, so that he couldn't get away. Hajime groaned like a dying man, going limp in Tooru's clingy grip.

 

"Do I really smell like mint to you?" Tooru mumbled, nose pressed in between Hajime's shoulder blades.

 

"Mmm. Like toothpaste," Hajime affirmed.

 

"Does everyone have a different smell?"

 

"Duh."

 

"Can you smell magic?"

 

"Kinda?"

 

Hajime made to shrug, which jostled Tooru's face. Tooru whined a little and pressed in closer, fingers twisting in the blankets.

 

Hajime struggled with his words, voice drowsy. "'M not very good at telling the differences yet. Like, your whole family reeks of flowers. But I can smell other werewolves easiest. They're like… like earthy… steak? Coppery I guess? Like if you bury a bone, and there's still meat on it when you dig it up, that's a werewolf smell. Maybe we smell like what we eat."

 

"Gross, Iwa-chan," Tooru giggled. "You're nasty. Are there any other werewolves in our town?"

 

"Of course," Hajime retorted, as though this should be obvious. "Can't you smell them? They're mostly all older than us, though. Dad says I'm not allowed to join the pack until I'm older and I can control my shift better. There's spirits in the forest and it's not safe for kids. For now I have to stay in the backyard where there's a fence."

 

Tooru had so many questions, but the first one to make it to the tip of his tongue was simply, "Does it hurt?"

 

Hajime sighed. He pulled in tighter around himself, curling into a ball beneath his blankets. His voice was muffled when he spoke. "I don't remember much," he admitted. "Once I can control it, then I'll be able to remember. Right now it's like… having a dream. I just wake up when it's over." He paused, and added, "But it hurts when I wake up. Like all over."

 

"Like right now," Tooru observed. Ever his mother's son, his sensitive soul would not allow him to deny someone who needed help. He hummed in sympathy and started petting Hajime's hair again. Hajime muttered something under his breath, but leaned into the gentle touch, eyes closing almost immediately.

 

They stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon, drifting in the peaceful silence between wakefulness and slumber, until Tooru's mother called him home for dinner, and Tooru promised to come back the next day, and the next, as long as it took, until he felt like his old self again.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

From that summer on, the two were inseparable. There were no secrets they could have hidden from each other, and none they wanted to.

 

When classes started up again, Tooru and Hajime walked to and from school together. Even the days when Tooru made them both late by oversleeping, Hajime would still wait for him, grumpy but loyal. When Irihata's dog barked at Tooru and scared him, Hajime barked right back, and Tooru laughed so hard he cried. They sat next to each other in every class and swapped notes and bickered in the hallways about light sabers and kaiju and video games and aliens and everything and nothing. Hajime was the one who kept stubbornly expanding their circle and introducing him to friends, pushing them together as only a dog who constantly befriended everyone he met could. Tooru stuck to his side, slow to warm up to new people, but putting his faith in Hajime. They traded parts of their lunch every day, because Tooru liked vegetables better and Hajime liked meat better and both of them liked sweets, but Hajime always gave his desserts to Tooru anyway, "because you look ugly when you cry about it," he claimed, but it would make them both smile.

 

Some weekends they'd pile on Hajime's couch with his family and do rock-paper-scissors to decide if they watched a Star Wars or a Godzilla and end up watching both, and throwing popcorn at each other while making sound effects, and taking turns pretending to be monsters until Hajime's dad yelled at them to take it outside, which they did. Other weekends they'd explore the vast and wonderful garden, getting lost in the tangles of vines and secret archways and filling jars with fireflies or beetles or slugs, until they got tired and hungry and let them all go, and then Tooru's mother would make them mint tea and snacks and entertain them with bits of small magic until they were ready to adventure again.

 

In his dreams, Tooru still saw the great black dog who swallowed his heart. But now his dream self climbed fearlessly on its back, and they ran through an endless carpet of flowers, or soared through a field of glittering diamond stars, or claimed the moon as their kingdom.

 

This became the routine they fell into, the pattern of their young lives, marked by summer birthdays and winter holidays and the ever-present sway of the moon over Hajime's life: how every month he'd wax and wane and Tooru would be there, devotion unwavering, through the highs and lows they shared. At his zenith, Hajime shone bright and powerful and impossible to look away from, with Tooru ever at his side, ready for mischief and adventure and anything they could take on together. His boundless energy served him well in gym class, in every sport he touched, making him popular with the other boys, who could never best him in arm wrestling or any other challenge. Tooru, his growth spurt making him taller but clumsier, all knees and elbows and awkward shyness, couldn't always keep up, but still felt his heart soar with pride any time Hajime proved to be the strongest in class, as if it was his victory too.

 

And then Hajime's wolf time would come, tearing himself back down to nothing. Tooru would listen at his window, staying up with him with his knees hugged to his chest and his heart in his throat, without ever seeing the true shape of the boy screaming and howling through the night. Hajime would fall pale and spent and vulnerable after, and when he skipped classes to hole up in the nurse's office, Tooru would pour his restlessness into taking notes and gathering homework and saving the best parts of his lunch to share. Tooru's fierce protectiveness flared brighter with every month that passed, latching on their secret: the unguarded, tame side of Hajime that only he was allowed to hold.

 

When they slept over, which occurred more and more frequently until it felt stranger for either of them to be alone, they always shared a bed, curled back to back to feel the familiar rise and fall of each others' breathing. And when Hajime's wolf claimed all of his strength and left him gentler, needier, he would tuck his head against Tooru's chest, or hold his hand, and Tooru would stroke his hair until they could both fall asleep together. A few times at night, after Tooru's nee-chan moved out, he and Hajime dared to sneak into her old room and steal some of the doujinshi she kept hidden under her bed, and read it by flashlight under the safe walls of their blanket fort, stifling each others' giggles with their hands for fear of getting caught with comics about boys kissing. If anyone else had seen, it would have been embarrassing for reasons Tooru didn't know how to articulate just yet, but was fun when it was just Hajime.

 

It was always Hajime for him.

 

By the time they started high school, their growing limbs were too long to fit comfortably on one bed anymore, but they stubbornly tangled and twisted to make it work anyway. They were pressed too close, or not close enough, and Tooru's heart would beat too fast all the while, and he'd struggle to catch his breath, and it felt like somewhere along the way the rules had changed and he didn't know what that meant. As long as it was them, the two of them together in all things, it would be all right, he told himself.

 

But he still felt a wretched pang of envy when Hajime finally did get permission to leave the backyard and run freely through the dangers of the dark forest with the other werewolves, the wolves he didn’t know, who got to see a side of Hajime he had yet to meet. He couldn't sleep on full moon nights any more than Hajime could. Sometimes, irrationally, he hated the other wolves for existing. He wanted Hajime to be the only wolf in the world.

 

And sometimes, only sometimes, when Tooru needed reassurance and Hajime was willing to give it and they both felt brave, they tried kissing.

 

Theirs were shy kisses stolen under the safe cover of the quilt, where the air was too warm to breathe and it was too dark to see each other blush, and they bumped noses or teeth and giggled about it, missing just as often as they got it right. Tooru's hands would tremble on these nights, overwhelmed by everything that Hajime was, the width and breadth of him, the way he eclipsed everything in Tooru's universe, and he'd clutch at Hajime's familiar back to steady himself so it didn't feel like he was falling, falling, falling. And then Hajime would lean their foreheads together, and they'd just stay like that, sharing each others' air, anchoring each other in place, the boundaries between their lives blurring as they'd drift to sleep as one.

 

They fell into each other naturally and easily, and never felt a need to put it into words. Whatever they were, they were together. And this became their secret too, a side they would share with each other and no one else, not ever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Nope."

 

"Iwa-chaaaaan," Tooru whined, draping himself over Hajime's sturdy shoulders. "When are you going to bite me already?"

 

"Never," Hajime said flatly.

 

High school had given them both more height and more muscle, but Tooru had finally grown comfortable in the shape of his bones, athletic grace smoothing out his lifelong clumsiness. Tooru leaned more of his weight onto Hajime, making it impossible for Hajime to continue walking down the sidewalk to their houses. Hajime ducked low to try and shake him off, but Tooru was too practiced at this dance, moving with him.

 

"I've been waiting for ten whole years now," Tooru pronounced with a longsuffering air. "Playing hard to get. So stingy."

 

"Yeah, the answer was no then, and it's still no now, Crappykawa." Hajime ground his knuckles in the sensitive part of Tooru's ribs, making him flinch away with a startled laugh.

 

"No fair, ticklish! Come on, Iwa-chan, tell me why not! It's almost graduation, let's do it before college!"

 

"You know exactly why not, dumbass. My mother would kill me. And then your mother would use her powers to bring me back to life, and then kill me again. Slower."

 

"My mother is a saint and I will not stand for you slandering her," Tooru said with mock offense. "She supports me no matter who I am, and that includes my future as a furry."

 

Hajime snorted an ugly laugh, too surprised to cover it up. Tooru grinned at him, feeling a little flutter of victory. He leaned in close again, bright and hopeful, and Hajime didn't pull away, not even when their noses bumped together.

 

"It would be so good, Iwa-chan! Let me do this with you. Let me be a part of your world."

 

Tooru cupped his hands on either side of Hajime's warm cheeks, and held his gaze unflinchingly. This close, he thought he could see a flicker of hesitation in Hajime's fathomless green gaze. They lingered for a long moment, caught in each other's eyes, the rest of the world fading around them. Tooru didn't even realize he was holding his breath.

 

But some hidden resolve hardened him, and Hajime broke eye contact, shaking his head.

 

"I won't let that happen," Hajime promised, voice soft. Tooru's expression crumpled into a disappointed scowl. Then louder, Hajime added, "Aren't you still afraid of dogs? Why would you even want to turn into one? You'd get so hairy."

 

"I'm not scared of dogs, Iwa-chan!" Tooru shrilled, and aimed a kick at the back of Hajime's knee to make him stumble. Then he took off running, whooping in laughter and knowing Hajime would chase him all the way to his front door to pay him back in bruises.

 

Hajime always caught him, in the end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The cafeteria was always noisy, but Tooru glanced up at the sound of his name being called. A clutch of younger girls giggled and waved at him at the lunch table. He knew them from outside of school, the daughters of witches, the neighborhood coven that visited his mother for garden tea parties, so he waved back, waggling his fingers playfully. He watched with some amusement as a blonde girl was elbowed and pushed by her companions until she found the courage to come forward, and press a small wrapped bundle into his hands.

 

"Um! Oikawa-senpai! I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch, is this a bad time?"

 

On the other side of his table, Matsukawa and Hanamaki mimicked fluttering eyelashes and pretended to swoon at each other, so Tooru aimed kicks at their shins. They knew it wasn't like that. Not for him, at least. He was secretly glad Hajime wasn't there to see.

 

Oblivious to their teasing, the girl bobbed her head to him. "I just wanted to thank you for helping us study spells last month, senpai. My charms have gotten more powerful thanks to you!" She smiled, bright and earnest, cheeks glowing pink at their proximity. "I made that one for you last night. It's for good luck in all your future endeavors!"

 

She hovered anxiously as Tooru unwrapped the charm and held it up to the fluorescent lights to examine it. The parchment star was folded clumsily, her lack of confidence apparent in the amateur craftsmanship, but her foundation held the spell she had woven into it. It was working magic. He smiled pleasantly back at her, indulgent. "You've improved a lot, Yacchan," he told her, a note of genuine pride coloring his tone. "Thank you for the gift."

 

"No, thank _you_ ," she squeaked, delighted by his praise. "You're such a patient teacher, and you know so much about witch magic. I'm a huge fan of your mother's work, and your charms come out looking just like hers, so much better than mine! You would make such an amazing witch, senpai!"

 

Tooru's placid smile froze on his face.

 

She cut herself off to apologize for babbling, flustered. His mild expression did not change when she scurried back to her place across the room, leaving him staring distantly at the good luck charm dangling between his fingers. As the calendar ticked off the weeks to graduation, sometimes, not often, but sometimes, Tooru missed the easy days of childhood, when he felt like the world was full of hope, and his soft heart didn't need the thorns he'd grown to protect it. But this was how he'd grown, and he could only continue forward.

 

He had studied hard, poring over magic tomes and memorizing spell books long after his homework was done and he should have been in bed. He could recreate his mother's charms now, his fingers as elegant with bows and as accurate with folds, but– in his hands they were useless trinkets. He simply couldn't let go of the old wound that festered in his chest, the hurt of waiting for a gift that had never arrived. He knew his own potential. With his grades, his charisma, his bright and inquisitive mind, he could go off to a university and mold himself into anything at all and probably be successful at it. But to do so meant giving up on _this_ , this which consumed him. He didn't want to get out and never look back, the way his sister had. He would have stayed in this charmed little town forever, taken over his mother's garden, and happily settled into the mantle of drawing out the best in others, of helping those in need, of being _useful_. That was what he wanted.

 

But it wasn't his.

 

Tooru heaved a dramatic sigh and dropped his chin into his hands. He worked so hard to be _something_ , waiting for his efforts to one day pay off like he'd always been promised they would, but he couldn't shake the bitterness that he would never be anything after all. And Hajime still didn't want to offer him a place at his side, even as the clock ran out. He didn't much feel like eating lunch anymore.

 

"What's on your mind, petunia," Matsukawa drawled, chewing on the straw from his juice box.

 

Matsukawa was the son of a stitch witch, one of his mother's tea party friends, and thus one of the few he knew in a similar situation to his own. But unlike Tooru, Matsukawa seemed perfectly comfortable being born to an ordinary fate. Every week he had a different career plan: butcher, baker, candlestick maker. It was impossible to tell when he was being serious, and Tooru had long given up on trying.

 

"Wondering where the hell Iwa-chan has gotten off to without telling me," he muttered darkly. Just as he always had, Tooru sulked any time Hajime went off somewhere and left him on his own to socialize. He knew he was being perfectly ridiculous, and his friends had every right to rib him for it, and so they did.

 

Hanamaki grinned, ready and armed. "Aww, your dog ran away? That's so sad. Would some candy cheer you up, little boy?" He waggled a baggie of neon bright gummies in front of Tooru's nose, and Tooru swatted them away.

 

"I'm not a child, Makki, you can't just distract me from my woes with– wait, what flavor," he quickly amended. Hanamaki had only recently discovered his talent for potion-making extended to candy-making, and Tooru had happily volunteered as his taste-tester. Sometimes Hanamaki's tastes were dubious at best, but he did have an unusual gift, and Tooru usually considered the risk worth the reward.

 

Hanamaki squinted at his own handiwork. "Pineapple, banana, and… mushroom? I think it was some kind of fungus. Also I don't remember what the fourth color was, but it probably won't make you sick this time," he offered, smirking at Tooru's scowl.

 

"They're all yellow," Tooru pointed out. "The same shade of toxic yellow. All of these look identical."

 

"That's a fifty-fifty shot of being edible," Matsukawa said helpfully. "Good thing you have that lucky charm."

 

As Tooru decided to brave the mystery gummies anyway, his eyes tracked across the cafeteria. Their high school was small enough that the different classes all ate together, although they mostly kept to their own age groups out of familiarity. He was surprised to catch sight of Hajime over in the corner, talking to an underclassman he recognized only by bad reputation, and the bright dandelion-yellow of buzz cut blond hair.

 

He looked mean, which Tooru remembered with a start was the same poor first impression he'd had about Hajime. What was Hajime doing talking to Kyoutani…?

 

Tooru watched them with his most judgmental squint, as he popped another gummy in his mouth. He was trying to guess what the connection was, while doing his best to ignore Hanamaki and Matsukawa flicking bits of paper napkins into his hair. The unlikely duo stayed huddled near the wall, deep in conversation for the rest of the period.

 

The candy was sour on his tongue. Tooru forced his eyes down, glaring at the good luck star instead, as if this misfortune was somehow its fault. He tried to push down the petty part of him that twisted his stomach into a knot, whispering that this was time wasted, time they could have spent together before the looming threat of graduation. It was just one lunch period, he reasoned. It wouldn't negate the lifetime of closeness he'd shared with Hajime.

 

That night Tooru struggled to fall asleep, covers tangled around his tossing and turning body like a snarl of vines. He wanted to dream of the black dog, of forests and castles and galaxies of stars and the world they built for two, but no matter how what tricks he tried, sleep evaded him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't just one lunch period. It was every lunch period that week. When pressed, Hajime wouldn't – or couldn't – give him many details. Which meant it was almost certainly werewolf business, which meant Tooru didn't appreciate being excluded. He could feel Hajime's patience wearing thin as Tooru became increasingly sleep-deprived and obnoxious, pestering him loudly in between class.

 

"Kid's going through a rough patch," Hajime finally grumbled, scrubbing his hand through his spiky hair. "Not everyone is as casual about wolf things as you. Don't be shitty."

 

"Another admirer! Iwa-chan is so popular with boys," Tooru sang, walking backwards through the hallway with his arms spread dramatically. "Leading them on with his rugged good looks and his nice guy attitude! What a heartbreaker~"

 

"What about you with your witch fan club," Hajime reasoned, brows furrowed. "You're way flirtier than I am and you like the attention, which makes you a hundred times more annoying."

 

"Nonsense, Iwa-chan, I am a delight!" Tooru preened. "Those girls are here for my good listening skills, a wise senpai's advice, and my non-threatening friend-to-all-witches aura. Oikawa-san takes care of them~"

 

"You know their moms are all trying to set you up with their daughters, and praying for magic grandkids."

 

"Gross, Iwa-chan!"

 

"Bet every single one of them has a love charm stuffed in their backpack with your name on it."

 

"Rude!! Even an uncivilized beast like Iwa-chan can still learn manners!"

 

"Screw you," Hajime grinned, and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

 

"It must be close to your time of the month if you're this grouchy! Have you been getting enough iron in your diet?" Tooru chirped innocently, and caught him in a headlock to mess up his hair.

 

Soon they were wrestling on the hallway floor like they were little again, only Tooru was craftier and longer-limbed than he used to be, and they now had an equal shot at winning. Tangled up and laughing about it felt comfortable again, familiar ground, reassuring. When they broke apart in a draw, Hajime's cheeks were ruddy and he was grinning so wide his eyes scrunched shut.

 

He looked so carefree and achingly beautiful in that moment that Tooru could almost kiss him.

 

But right there in the middle of school, in broad daylight, that would have been unfamiliar territory. It was only safe in the dark, where it was their secret, never to be spoken aloud. So Tooru shied away from the impulse, focusing his attention on fixing his rumpled clothes, smoothing out his mussed hair, keeping up his appearance. The lingering seed of worry crept back again when they sat through another morning of class, another day closer to something ending.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they sat down to lunch that afternoon, Hajime finally joined them with a sheepish smile. But this time he had dragged Kyoutani with him – almost literally, his arm slung around the surly boy's shoulders as though it was the only thing keeping him from bolting. Hanamaki and Matsukawa raised their eyebrows at first, but quickly picked up their usual conversation as though nothing had changed. And in a way, it hadn't – Hajime had always been the one to reach out to new friends, however unlikely they might seem at first. But Kyoutani said nothing at all to them, stiff and hunched up and clearly unhappy to be sandwiched between his upperclassmen with no common ground.

 

Tooru stared without bothering to hide it. He tried and failed to suppress that queasy twist in his stomach, bothered by the easy way Hajime left his arm there, and how subtly Kyoutani was leaning into his side, like it was the only safe harbor in a stormy sea. _Werewolf business_ , he thought bitterly. If it had been anyone else, he would have just dealt with it with his usual flippant smile and fake cheer, but this felt personal because there were secrets involved, and he wasn't in on them.

 

He must not have been able to keep the resentment from his plastic smile because it wasn't long before Hajime was glaring at him. He knew he was being unfair. Hajime, for all his gruffness, only ever had the kindest of intentions. And Tooru trusted him in the same simple, unconditional, childish way he always had. But the stress of Tooru's insecurities was beginning to leak ugly and black into his mood, and his hurt at being left out of magical things felt unfair, too.

 

He stabbed his fork moodily in his salad. A cherry tomato became his unfortunate victim, innards bubbling out where it was impaled on the tines. He pulled it apart with morbid satisfaction.

 

"You gonna say anything or just keep playing with your food," Hajime prompted.

 

"Sorry, Iwa-chan. I see you've picked up another stray. Nice to meet you, Kyouken-chan," Tooru said carelessly.

 

Hajime looked sharply at him, shock and anger hardening his face into stone. "I told you, don't be shitty," he growled.

 

Tooru blinked, not realizing at first what about the name had upset Hajime. _Mad Dog_. Then he sat up straighter, gaze going sharp. "What?" he shot back defensively. "It's just a nickname. I give all my _friends_ nicknames, don't I?"

 

Kyoutani rose with a loud clatter of his chair. He shrugged off Hajime's arm, abandoning his food on the table, and swiftly exited the cafeteria. Tooru curled his lip to sneer at the dramatic exit, though guilt immediately clamped heavy in his gut. Werewolf business was a sensitive thing sometimes, deeply personal. And Tooru could be prickly, sure, but he hadn't aimed to wound.

 

To his surprise, Hajime was next to follow suit and stand. "He's pack, Oikawa. Back off," he rumbled, low and dangerous.

 

Tooru's eyes gleamed bright at the challenge, too stubborn to back down.

 

"I could be pack too, if you wanted me," he spat.

 

Hajime's head snapped back, stung. He glowered for a moment, lips parted on an unspoken word.

 

Tooru gripped the fork tighter in his fist. Daring him.

 

Then Hajime seemed to think better of it. His jaw clenched shut, and he whirled and took off after Kyoutani, leaving Tooru behind.

 

Iwa-chan had walked out on him. Iwa-chan was actually mad at him.

 

"What the hell was that?" Hanamaki hissed in a loud whisper, and Tooru didn't know which part he was referring to, nor did he care.

 

He looked back down at his salad, still stabbing at the strewn remains of the tomato, all seeds and goop. Something hot flared in his chest, twisting his countenance into a murderous scowl. The worst part was, he knew full well he couldn't be mad at Kyoutani, because he'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone.

 

It wasn't _fair_ to be mad at Hajime for being kind enough to offer his support to a fellow werewolf who had no one else to guide him, but Tooru _was_ mad.

 

Hajime was good, a truly good person, too good for Tooru. Hajime refused to bite him, always, no matter how many years Tooru had begged to be let in, because he didn't want to hurt him. Always with the kindest of intentions. Always sure and in control. Hajime was too noble to turn someone even if they consented to it, not letting people make their own choices, even when they knew what they wanted, something that could never be taken away, even if they wanted to be _his, forever_ –

 

Tooru slammed the fork into the table. The metal teeth bit deep into the wood, quivering upright as they all stared at it, and then at him.

 

"Oikawa, are you all right?" Matsukawa asked, serious for once.

 

Then Tooru too rose from his chair, ignoring Hanamaki's protest and Matsukawa's concerned voice calling him back, ignoring everything as the cafeteria noise faded out behind him. He didn't return when the bell rang for class.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Mom?" Tooru called in the doorway. He flung his duffel carelessly to the floor and kicked off his shoes. Frustration, resentment, self pity, loathing, longing, he was a roiling mess of teenage emotions and he was ready to burn the school down to the ground just so he wouldn't have to go back. His voice was choked, eyes stinging and blurry. "Mom, I need you –"

 

She wasn't home. Tooru swore. In the heat of the moment he'd forgotten she was gone this month – staying with his sister in the city, helping out with baby Takeru so she could keep attending her classes and working nights to pay for them. His proud sister was too stubborn to ever compromise on chasing what she wanted. His kind mother could never refuse anyone who needed her help.

 

And here was Tooru, left behind and wishing he were more like both of them, and not something _different_.

 

His chest ached, sudden and fierce and selfish. He wanted his family to tell him he was okay. He loved them, even his baby nephew who he'd only met once in the hospital and wanted to see now that he was larger. He was homesick standing in his own kitchen, the house he'd grown up in, staring at the doorframe where his mother had marked off his height every birthday until he was too tall for her to reach. He wanted things to stay the same forever, and he knew nothing ever could. The changing seasons, the cycling moon, the passing years – and the one element he thought would always be a part of his life, steady and reliable, and for the first time, he felt slipping away from him.

 

"Iwa-chan," he called forlornly to the unlit corridor.

 

Slowly, Tooru sank to the floor, fingernails digging painfully into his sides, and let the frustrated tears spill hot over his cheeks. He was miserable because he had never fought with Hajime before, not like this. The furious, wounded look in Hajime's eyes haunted him. He never wanted Hajime to look at him like that again.

 

It was too real, and he didn't know how to fix it, because even if he apologized for being catty, Kyoutani would still exist, other wolves would still exist, and Tooru would get jealous again and again because he wasn't good enough to be one of them. He didn't know how to quell the ache of his envious heart, protected by a forest of thorns that pierced it too, always bleeding for what he could not have.

 

It was a long time before Tooru's shuddering sobs fell silent. He had always been an ugly crier, or so Hajime reminded him every chance he got; his skin blotchy and nose red and eyelashes clumped together and snot all over his face. Hajime would have laughed to see him such a mess, and Tooru thought he wouldn't have minded the humiliation, if it meant Hajime wouldn't be mad at him anymore.

 

He slowly, tiredly, pulled himself up from the kitchen floor and leaned his weight on the counter, too emotionally drained to stand without support. He cradled the wall phone to his ear, and dialed his sister's apartment. His mother was the one to pick up, mercifully.

 

"Tooru-chan, is everything okay? Shouldn't you be in school?"

 

Simply hearing her voice made his throat hitch, but Tooru swallowed it down, wiping his drippy face on his sleeve. He wasn't a child anymore who could cry freely and be reassured that everything would be alright. He was old enough to know that sometimes things didn't work out, no matter how hard he tried.

 

"I don't know," Tooru mumbled tonelessly. He stared at his fingers, twisting them in the cord of the old wall phone. He remembered suddenly his mother's charms to mend the holes in lonely hearts, and how clear it was to him now that the hope he'd cut out of himself had rotted a cavity in him that needed to be filled. He wondered if a magic charm could fix him before it was too late, if it wasn't already.

 

She waited with the patience of a saint on the other end for him to continue.

 

"I think I'm in love with Iwa-chan," he blurted.

 

He didn't know where else to start. That was the root of it all. The feelings had grown intertwined with everything Hajime was to him, the life they'd shared over the past decade, and the fear of losing him left Tooru stripped bare and too scared to act. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but the whine crept into his pitiful voice anyway.

 

"I think I fucked it up. He's mad at me for real this time."

 

His mother's sigh came as a rush of static. He imagined his sister would have called him melodramatic, but his mother took a gentler route, always choosing to be kind. "I'm sorry you had a fight, sweetheart," she said, and he knew she really meant it, because he knew she loved Hajime like a second son. He was family too. "These things do happen. But I must say, after all these years together, I can't imagine Hajime-chan being unwilling to forgive you for anything, ever."

 

Tooru found a small, watery smile at that. Fighting with Hajime was stupid and Tooru hated how completely it unraveled him like this, like his world was upended and he was struggling to find his footing on unfamiliar terrain. He didn't like the feeling of not knowing where he stood.

 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself before replying, "I don't think he wants me the way I want him."

 

" _Tooru_. That boy absolutely adores you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

 

"Mom, you don't get it! School's almost over. If I push him away now, it'll be forever."

 

"And you know I'm not the one you should be telling this," she retorted.

 

Tooru groaned, his head hitting the wall. "Can't you talk to Iwa-chan for me," he whined petulantly. "He's too stupid to tell me what he wants!"

 

His mother laughed, though not unkindly. "You already know what I'm going to tell you! It's okay to make mistakes. But you have to fix the problems yourself," she reminded him.

 

"Mom…"

 

" _No shortcuts_. I know you'll be brave. If you want to fix this, you can fix this."

 

Tooru set his jaw squarely, a tendril of hope daring to creep through his gloom. He had learned to be braver with Hajime at his side, and now he felt small and alone again, like what he had been when he first knocked on the next door neighbor's door to bring them a housewarming present. But if nothing else, he had always been too stubborn for his own good. Tooru didn't know when to give up. And his mother always knew what to say to make him want to get up and try again.

 

"…Love you, Mom."

 

"I love you too. And don't say fuck. I'm still your mother."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was the weekend, and he had not seen Hajime since he'd stormed out of school. Hajime had made no attempt to call him or knock on his door. Thus Tooru was avoiding him back, petty and unwilling to make the first move since his feelings had been hurt, too. He was not a fan of rejection. He reasoned that he was allowed to be a petulant child at least until his eighteenth birthday.

 

He sprawled on the couch with his long legs dangling over the edge, piled under milk bread wrappers and empty ice cream cartons and dressed in nothing but his boxers and a stolen Godzilla shirt. He marathoned black-and-white kaiju movies all afternoon, half-asleep and steeped in self-loathing and complaining out loud every time he could see the zipper on a low budget monster costume.

 

It was the longest they'd gone without seeing each other, maybe ever. Maybe he would have to learn to get used to separation, if he and Hajime went off to different schools. When he finally turned the television off, he still stared at the blank screen for a long time. His chest was heavy with the ache of want, of missing pieces that weren't his to put back into place. He just wanted this to be over already, to be back to the way it was supposed to be.

 

Tooru felt like he'd been waiting all his life, on the precipice of _something_ that still dangled out of his reach. He hated being useless more than anything. He considered getting another pint of ice cream and dragging it to his room to have something for his hands to do, but his stomach already hurt from all the junk food, and he found his leaden limbs unwilling to move.

 

He heard the noisy screen door shudder closed in the yard next door, and slowly sat up. Hajime must be outside in the yard. It was late in the afternoon and he was probably home alone. Tooru idly brushed some crumbs off his shirt – Hajime's shirt – and considered his options.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Surprise, Iwa-chan!"

 

Whenever the opportunity presented itself, dramatic entrance was the way to go. Tooru hopped the fence and landed with a thud in front of Hajime, who bared his teeth in an unimpressed grimace.

 

"Smelled you coming," Hajime grumbled. "You could have just used the door."

 

Tooru adopted a pout. "You're no fun in your old age," he sulked. "You used to be fun. Iwa-chan is a grumpy old man in dog years."

 

Hajime grunted a noncommittal reply. He tilted his head towards the sky from where he was sitting, perched on the tallest rock in the yard. The summer sunset streaked deep red and purple behind him, painting hues along the rugged contours of his face. He remained still.

 

He looked _mature_ , Tooru realized, and swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat. It felt imposing, like the short month between their birthdays had grown into a yawning chasm and Tooru was being left behind. But Tooru steeled his nerves and clambered up the rough stone. He took his place at Hajime's side, too stubborn to settle anywhere else.

 

"Are your parents home?" Tooru asked. He dared to lean a little closer, bumping his shoulder against Hajime's.

 

Hajime rolled his shoulder in a half shrug, not rebuffing him. It didn't seem like he was still angry.

 

"Full moon tonight. They headed out early to carpool. I'm meeting up with Kyoutani so we can run a different route. The pack kicked him out."

 

Tooru didn't respond. The heaviness settled like a lead weight in his stomach again. It was longing. He didn't care if Hajime had friends that weren't his friends too, not really, but he was tired of being left out. He dragged his knees up to his chest and curled around them, settling his chin atop his knees. He was vaguely aware that Hajime was looking at him, gauging his reaction, but he avoided the measuring stare.

 

They were both silent for a time, watching the sunset. He wasn't sure how to say what he wanted to say. He also knew he didn't have all night to get around to it.

 

Tooru's mouth was dry, and he licked his lips nervously before finally voicing it. "I'll stop asking you after tonight," he said as flippantly as he could manage, "If you'll tell me why."

 

Tooru's sharp eyes flicked over to study him. Hajime's posture had tensed beside him. His jaw clenched the way it always did when he got uncomfortable. He definitely didn't want to have this conversation, but it was his fault that now they both needed to deal with it.

 

Hajime's brows furrowed as he shot back, "I've told you why a hundred times already. I won't do that to you."

 

"Why, because it hurts? Because it makes you sick? I can handle a little pain, Iwa-chan," Tooru protested. "I know what I want—"

 

"No, because you don't _need_ this," Hajime growled. "You think you need to constantly prove yourself, that you're not worth anything because you'll never be a witch. But you don't need to prove anything to anyone."

 

Tooru's mouth snapped shut. This was unexpected. He raised his head from his arms, blinking owlishly at Hajime. Hajime stared back in defiance, holding his gaze. The tips of his ears were pink, betraying his embarrassment at speaking candidly, but betraying his honesty, too. Hajime meant it.

 

"You don't understand," Tooru muttered reflexively. He felt laid bare, too exposed when Hajime looked at him like that. He glanced down and dug his fingers into his legs, squeezing to hold himself together. "I _can't_ be what I want. But I can choose this for myself. I can still be a part of something that's more than just me."

 

"You're right. I don't understand," Hajime agreed. There was an odd edge to his tone that Tooru distantly recognized as hurt. "I know you're not as much of a dumbass as you act. You joke about werewolf things, but you know the reality I live with. There's things I can't do because of what I am. Places I can't go. And I don't want to make you regret – choosing this. Choosing forever."

 

"Iwa-chan, that's ridiculous. And unfair. I would never regret it, because you'd be with me," Tooru spluttered, even as the heavy words rang true. His chest was tight, breath caught in the rising panic of whenever he thought about the future, whenever he thought about Hajime. He wanted to cling to everything he knew.

 

It sounded like Hajime had given it thought too, but with different conclusions. Tooru wasn't sure he wanted to hear where this was going. He fought down the ridiculous instinct to run away.

 

"You know things are different here than they are in the rest of the world," Hajime went on. "It's why my family moved here when I was little. They wanted me to have a safe backyard with a fence. They wanted me to have a place to run. They wanted me to have friends I wouldn't have to keep this a secret from. Most werewolves don't get that," he said matter-of-factly. "I can't just go anywhere I want. I have to plan ahead, take care of myself. The more I think about it, the more I think… I think I'm staying here. I want to."

 

The air was sharp like splinters in Tooru's lungs. All along he had been afraid of Hajime going somewhere he couldn't follow. He had never considered that Hajime was the one with roots too deep to leave. He could say nothing at all as Hajime reached out, brushing his knuckles against Tooru's cheek.

 

Hajime's eyes gleamed dark in the low light of the sunset, and Tooru drowned.

 

"Oikawa, you… This town is too small for you. You can go anywhere you want. You can do anything you put your mind to. You're my best friend and I'll always be proud of you, no matter what you do, and you deserve to have the entire world," he said.

 

Hajime believed he was the one holding Tooru back, not the other way around. It came out soft and sad, like a hopeless confession. "You don't need me… Tooru."

 

"I _want_ you," Tooru hissed through his clenched teeth. Sudden heat flared up in him, causing his words to spit and sputter. "Maybe, maybe you're right, maybe – maybe I don't need to be a werewolf to stay with you, maybe I can do things that don't need magic, but! Iwa-chan, I hate this, don't make it sound like you're breaking up with me! I refuse to accept it! You're not allowed! You're not getting rid of me that easily!"

 

"Breaking up?" Hajime frowned in puzzlement. "Were we dating?"

 

Tooru gaped. Then he punched Hajime in the arm, startling an undignified yelp out of him.

 

" _Yes_ , you asshole," Tooru screeched. He punched Hajime a second time in the arm, as hard as he could, aiming for the same spot with the intention to bruise. "I mean, I don't know, but kind of almost yes?! We never talked about it, but I thought! I thought you, I mean we _kissed_ , doesn't that mean – aren't you – don't you – don't you want to be with me? Will you go out with me?"

 

Tooru swore he could feel his soul escaping through his useless gay mouth. This was the least eloquent confession in the history of teenage romance and Hajime had apparently just tried to dump him before he'd even gotten the words out.

 

Hajime threw up his hands in surrender as Tooru came at him with another vicious fist raised, eyes blazing. "Say it!!"

 

"Ow, okay, Shittykawa, that fucking hurts, I get it already! I like you too!"

 

"You like me? You _like_ me, Iwa-chan?! You better _love_ me or I'll smash your stupid fangs out and then you won't be able to bite anyone without dentures!"

 

"You're the dumbass who's always flirting with witch girls and pulling away from me when we're in public, how the fuck was I supposed to know you had actual human feelings!"

 

"Maybe I'm shy, Iwa-chan, maybe I'm a delicate flower in the prime of my youth and just because you have all the emotional sensitivity of a fucking brick—"

 

" _Shy_? You're so full of shit! I'm gonna kick your delicate flowery ass–!"

 

They rolled across the rock face, hands locked together as they grappled furiously. Tooru leveraged his weight to get on top, to which Hajime immediately headbutted him. Tooru reeled backwards with a squawk, hands flying to cradle his bruised nose. Hajime surged forward to shove him off but they both lost their balance, tumbling painfully to the hard earth several feet below.

 

They ended with Hajime on top, caging Tooru between his arms. They panted from exertion, faces flushed red and hair sticking to their sweaty skin, and laughed. When their heavy breathing had slowed to a more normal rate, Hajime leaned forward, bumping their foreheads together. Tooru smiled up at him, unguarded, adoring.

 

"I wanted you forever, Tooru," Hajime admitted. Then growled, "You put me through so much hell, you unbelievable dumbass."

 

If it were possible for him to blush any more than he already was, Tooru would have. He squirmed underneath Hajime's accusatory glare, then flashed a cheeky grin. "Well, I'm your dumbass now, Iwa-chan! What are you gonna do about it?"

 

Hajime huffed at him. Then he leaned in so their noses touched, and Tooru went very still, holding his breath. The last dying rays of sunlight framed Hajime's face in a glow, catching a gleam in his eyes as he waited. Cautiously, Tooru tilted his face upward, closing the last bit of distance between their lips.

 

They kissed, slowly and deliberately. There was still hesitation in Hajime's movements, like he was expecting Tooru to stop him. Tooru trembled despite his best efforts to appear confident, but he could feel Hajime's nervous pulse fluttering against his touch, and knew he was just as scared. Tooru's hands were shaking as he raised them, threading his fingers through Hajime's damp hair, encouraging him to continue.

 

Hajime's lips were chapped and he felt too hot in the humid air and his sweaty weight was making Tooru's legs go numb, but his heart wouldn't stop racing faster and faster. It felt like falling, but he was safe in Hajime's arms, so they were falling together, and that made it alright.

 

Hajime pulled away first, but it was only so he could nuzzle into Tooru's shoulder. Tooru continued petting his hair, and let out a shaky exhale. This was real. This was really happening.

 

"We," Tooru tried, but his voice hitched, and he stopped. Swallowing nervously, Tooru leaned into Hajime, cradling him close to his rapid heartbeat. "We still… I mean, about leaving…"

 

Hajime grunted and burrowed his face deeper into Tooru's shoulder. Tooru flinched with a startled laugh as he felt teeth connect, Hajime lightly nipping him.

 

"Talk later," Hajime said, muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

 

"Okay," Tooru agreed, relieved. "Okay."

 

" _Tooru_ ," Hajime growled, voice low. Tooru couldn't help the ripple of excitement that tone elicited, hearing Hajime call him like that. He hummed in response, fingers toying with the tips of Hajime's ears. He liked the sound of that. He wanted to make him say it again.

 

But he felt Hajime tensing against him, reluctantly peeling their sweaty bodies apart. "Tooru, you should… you shouldn't stay for this," he admitted with difficulty.

 

Tooru sat up slowly as Hajime shuffled back from him. He felt cold wash over him from the loss of body heat. With a thrill, he realized how long the shadows in the yard had grown. The sun's light had finally vanished over the tree line. Night had fallen around them.

 

Tooru realized he wasn't exactly certain how Hajime's transformation was triggered. Did he have to physically see the moon, or let its light touch him? Was it always a certain time of night? They had watched enough monster movies together for a lifetime, but it was always different on screen, and Hajime had always brushed off his curious questions to laugh at the terrible CGI wolves. This was no cheesy supernatural television show before him.

 

Tooru's anxiety stirred as he glanced out towards the hills, and the spirit forest beyond. It was dark, but they could see by the summer moon glowing over the trees, and apparently that was enough. He glanced sharply at the lines of Hajime's frown, the way he clutched at his stomach as a wave of cramps overtook him. The wolf was coming. He would meet it tonight.

 

"I'm staying," Tooru announced.

 

Hajime's eyebrows snapped down into a scowl, teeth bared.

 

"Why are you so god damn difficult," he snarled. "For once in your stupid life, Oikawa Tooru, can't you just – nnnng," Hajime groaned. A shudder racked through his body, and he doubled over on the ground, a strangled whine caught in his throat. His cheek pressed against the dirt, shoulders bulging outward, eyes screwed shut in pain. "Fuck, too late," he cursed softly.

 

Tooru scrambled to his feet. Panic bubbled up in his mind – maybe he _should_ leave, maybe this was private, just hop the fence and leave Hajime to handle this the way he always had, so he wouldn't be in the way – but he tamped it down as quickly as it sprouted. If nothing else, he wouldn't – couldn't – leave his side while Hajime suffered. There was no danger to him, because Hajime had promised he would never bite, not like this. And Tooru trusted him.

 

He scaled the rock face and crouched there, eyes bright and pained as he watched Hajime buck and thrash. It was a brief, violent struggle. Tooru felt queasy watching it.

 

Hajime's jaws snapped on air, spit dribbling down his chin as his yelping cries tore hoarse from his chest. His fingers scrabbled against the dirt, then against his sides, growing claws raking through his shirt and leaving raw lines against his ribs. Blood dripped at his feet. His hair was the first obvious change, spilling shaggy and dark down his neck, bursting from his chest, rippling down his arms.

 

Hajime managed to kick off his shorts by that point, though his shirt was beyond saving as the barrel of his chest swelled wider, and his shoulders wrenched back. His bones shifted and joints locked into place, and he screamed. The fabric fell away in tattered ribbons, destroyed. His skull erupted outward, teeth sprouting long and curving from his parted jaws.

 

Tooru gasped as he saw Hajime rear back on his haunches, now more animal than human. He howled the agonized cry that Tooru had heard every month from his bedroom window, and the familiar chill of dread juddered down his spine in response. He was frozen like a deer in headlights, instinct rooting him to the spot.

 

Hajime dropped to all fours, paws broad and heavy in the dirt, tongue lolling from his maw as he panted. His bottle brush tail dangled limp behind him in relief. It was done.

 

Slowly Tooru remembered how to breathe again. He uncurled his stiff limbs from where he crouched. Unsteadily he made his way down from the rock perch, and approached the wolf, trying to maintain his calm façade. The size of the wolf was staggering. Tooru had never seen a predator larger than a car up close. He thought of kaiju, and his instinctive fear began to ebb away with familiarity.

 

Muddy green eyes slowly blinked and focused. Pointed ears flicked forward with interest. The wolf raised his heavy head to regard him, wet nose snuffling at his borrowed shirt.  

 

A tongue darted out, pink and rough, licking him just once. Tooru gasped in startled laughter. Hajime's head was roughly the size of his torso, and thus the tongue slathered his entire side in hot drool. "Gross, Iwa-chan," he wailed, as Hajime crowded closer, nudging and licking him again affectionately. He couldn't hold back his peals of ticklish laughter, even as the werewolf mussed his hair into irreparable disarray.

 

Tooru buried his hands in Hajime's thick ruff, sighing in relief. The dark fur was shaggy and unkempt, sticking up in clumps that tangled around his fingers. It was not as soft as he'd dreamed it would be, but rather more like a wild thing should feel, coarse and springy and resilient. It still smelled like Hajime, but stronger now, something musky overlaying earth and salt and sage. He pushed through the thick ropes of fur to find the warmth of ribs beneath, and the pulse of a strong heartbeat.

 

His dream beast was real. And already he could feel the pull of the night calling him away, the dark shadows of the forest whispering dangerous promises only a wolf's ears could hear. Hajime shook his ruff abruptly, snorting in eagerness, and Tooru took a step back to watch him prance in place. The wolf's tail flagged up in excitement. It was like he was a kid again, wanting an adventure.

 

It was not his world. He would never run alongside Hajime like this, but he would be here upon his return. Hajime lowered his head and butted his forehead gently against Tooru's chest, and Tooru smiled, and kissed him between the ears.

 

"Come back to me, Iwa-chan," he whispered, before the wolf whirled and leaped the fence, swallowed by the darkness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tooru settled on his bedroom floor with his back to the wall, knees pulled to his chest, watching as the traveling moonlight caused the shadows to twist and lengthen across his bedroom wall, creeping like vines. His window was open, but the warm air was silent. Some moons he put music on, or left the television on in the other room to have company during his sleepless vigil, but always with the volume as low as he could. Tonight he didn't even bother with the pretense. He simply sat and waited.

 

The silence dragged on, as the world held its breath.

 

He zoned in and out of consciousness, head slumping into his chest. Each time he nodded off, he dreamed of walking barefoot through an endless field of black grass lit by white fireflies. His dream self caught them in a lantern and used the light to search by, but no matter how many shadows he uncovered, he couldn't find his black dog.

 

There came a rustling among the leaves outside. Tooru stirred, only half conscious. It wasn't anyone returning to the Iwaizumi house; the sound came from his own yard, somewhere in the garden. It wasn't unusual for rabbits or deer to venture into the labyrinth of boughs and tunnel paths for shelter. Perhaps they were seeking refuge from the pack roaming the woods.

 

But this noise was something unusual after all.

 

Tooru sat up with a frown, goosebumps rising on his arms. He heard labored breathing, tinged with an unhealthy rattle. A deep thud that caused the trees to shake, leaves shivering. A predator's growl, deep and guttural. Something was definitely out there. Something large.

 

Tooru peered out his window, cautious. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up. He could just barely make out a black shape in the garden, slumped among the leaves, unmoving. Another monstrous silhouette was dragging its dead weight by the throat, teeth gleaming wet in the low light.

 

Tooru jolted fully awake. He flew down the hallway, threw on all the lights, and snagged a kitchen knife in his hand.

 

"Iwa-chan, I'm coming!"

 

He barely felt the dew wet on his bare feet as he burst out the door. It felt like the surreal dream was simply continuing, and here was his black dog, found in their world but not safe. There was an intruder looming in his garden, crushing entire flowerbeds beneath its wide paws. The black wolf lay prone among the mint leaves. The lighter-furred wolf's head snapped up to look at him, muzzle streaked with gore.

 

Tooru's pulse was hammering, the unholy combination of adrenaline and sleep deprivation making him tremble uncontrollably. He held the knife out in front of him, moonlight flashing as it shook in his grip. He was brave in that moment, as brave as only a fool could be.

 

"Get away from him," Tooru snarled with all the fury he could muster. His eyes were as sharp as the steel in his hands as he charged.

 

The other, paler wolf took a step back at the sight of the knife, ears flattened against its skull, teeth bared and bloody. Tooru brandished the knife, jabbing at its jaws, driving it back another pace. He had never wielded a real weapon in his sheltered life. The most battle experience he had was using plastic light sabers to duel Iwa-chan in the backyard, but he had watched enough action movies to get the gist of it, he thought, and he would be damned if he didn't at least go down fighting.

 

The animal snarled, but made no attempt to lunge back. Tooru kept it at bay with one hand, never breaking eye contact, as he stepped over a tree's exposed roots and stood between them, protecting the inert body. He reached blindly behind him, pressing his empty palm to the black wolf's side.

 

The wolf was breathing, but it was shallow, uneven. The weakened thudding of his heartbeat was erratic. He was hurt, somewhere. The coppery scent of blood stuck to the roof of his mouth, rich and dizzying with its intensity, but it was too dark to see where it was coming from.

 

"Iwa-chan?" Tooru asked, his voice cracking.

 

The other wolf circled at a safe distance, wary of his blade, but clearly agitated. It barked sharply at him, tossing its head in a frustrated gesture. Tooru quickly felt his way through the gloom with one hand until he reached the creature's head. It felt like there were vines tangled around his neck. Hajime's pointed ears lay back against his broad skull, glassy eyes mostly closed. At the touch of Tooru's hand, Hajime pushed his muzzle forward, weakly nudging him.

 

"You're gonna be okay," Tooru promised firmly. "We're together now."

 

Hajime raised his head then, looking to the lighter-furred wolf who continued to pace, stiff-legged and bristling. Hajime did not stand, but let out a low woof. Tooru could feel the vibration of the noise ripple through him. The other wolf ducked its head lower, making a soft rumbling growl as it pawed at the dirt. The aggression bled out of its posture, lowering itself into something submissive and uneasy.

 

Hajime looked back to Tooru, an expectant look in his still-human eyes. Tooru shivered, dread creeping cold down his spine. Something was definitely still wrong. Tooru hesitated, but lowered the knife.

 

"You… didn't hurt him. You were helping him get to me," Tooru said slowly to the lighter wolf. He swallowed around the guilty lump in his throat. "Sorry," he added, and bowed his head. He wasn't just talking about trying to stab him just now.

 

The wolf rumbled a noise of malcontent, dandelion-bright fur bristling and tail flagged high. It peeled its lips back in an unfriendly grimace as though it would spit at him if it could, but made no move closer. Tooru felt his shocked features rearrange into a startled smile.

 

"Yeah, yeah, you did it for him, not me. I get it," he said airily, but stopped posturing as Hajime whined.

 

The black wolf convulsed, clawing at his throat as his panting grew short and pained. He fell limp and whimpered a pitiful sound that made Tooru's heart clutch. Tooru whirled just in time to see dark and dripping vines rise from Hajime's ruff, before something struck him hard in the stomach.

 

Tooru was knocked off his feet with a wheezing yelp. Tears stung his eyes as the wind rushed from his lungs. He saw the shadow of the lighter wolf – Kyoutani – leaping over him to bury his fangs into the vines that had wrapped themselves around Hajime's throat, and shake them viciously. Hajime slumped forward, fighting just to stay conscious.

 

Dazed and coughing, Tooru tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He scrambled back to his feet, head swimming as he found the knife still gripped in his unsteady hands. He dashed to Hajime's side and tried to hack through the ropes around his throat, but they were dense like tree bark, and resisted the blade. It was just stainless steel, his mind helpfully supplied, not silver.

 

He tossed the useless knife aside and grappled at it with desperate hands, trying to rip the leaves from the wolf's windpipe so he wouldn't suffocate. Tendrils of vines snaked around his wrists, creeping along his bare skin. Almost immediately Tooru felt chill seep into his bones. He gasped, knees buckling. His numb hands fell away as he dropped back to the garden floor, his uncooperative body crumpling, the vines slipping away to coil back around Hajime.

 

He heard, rather than saw, as Kyoutani's massive body crashed into a tree, tearing the roots up from the soil. The beautiful garden was being destroyed around him like a kaiju movie, and he was powerless to stop it. It felt like his world was falling apart around him. For that brief moment, he was relieved that his mother wasn't home to see it.

 

Tooru struggled to shake off the haze of disorientation. _Focus_. The dark forest had dangers, he remembered, spirits lingered in trees, drawn to the energy of the living; in his reading they were called _wights_. The werewolves had to be old enough, strong enough, to run there, because there was safety in numbers – and Hajime and Kyoutani weren't running with the pack tonight. They had brought something back with them, brought it to _him_ , because they didn't know how to get rid of it, and maybe he did.

 

His frantic mind raced through every possible scenario, but he was drawing a blank. The spirit was sapping Hajime's energy to grow stronger. Tooru and Kyoutani would lose strength every time they touched it. He needed a way to get it off of Hajime, but if even Kyoutani didn't have the brute strength to pull it off, then certainly Tooru didn't have any secret to –

 

A manic laugh bubbled from Tooru's throat. His face split into a wild smile with too many teeth, and he turned and bolted back for his house. The terrible snarling and tearing noises fell away behind him, and it was like he was seven again, small and hopeful and standing on his neighbor's doorstep clutching a jar of salt.

 

_"Salt kills ghosts, right?"_

 

Tooru dashed back into the wreckage of the garden in time to see the vines snarled around Kyoutani's muzzle, pinning his frothing jaws shut. The wolf was jerking and clawing at himself, the whites of his eyes rolling wildly. Hajime was unmoving. This was all he had.

 

Without hesitation, Tooru ripped the top off his mother's jar of sea salt and upended it over the wight, putting his trust in Hajime. 

 

It reacted immediately. The vines retracted and withered, curling and twining into a ball wherever the salt touched it. Kyoutani broke free with a roar, rolling on the ground to shake off any clinging remnants. Hajime did not stir, but the vines around his neck slackened and dropped.

 

Tooru dashed over to the remaining bits of vines and vindictively shook the last bits of salt onto them, ensuring they shriveled up and stopped moving. He stood glaring at them, daring them to fight back, until he was certain there was nothing supernatural left in the plant growth strewn about the wreckage of the garden.

 

Then he dropped the jar and gasped, sucking air into his panicked chest. His heart was hammering so fast he was left dizzy from the speed of it. _Hajime_.

 

"Iwa-chan," he called.

 

The wolf did not respond.

 

"Iwa-chan!"

 

Tooru whirled to point an imperious finger at Kyoutani. "Go and get his parents right now!" he commanded.

 

Kyoutani hesitated, looking pointedly at Hajime. Tooru drew himself up to his full height, daring him to disobey. Kyoutani didn't make any attempt to communicate further, and abruptly turned and bounded for the fence. The massive creature cleared the jump easily, and took off in the direction of the woods.

 

Once they were alone, Tooru turned back to Hajime, determined to gauge the damage and find where he was bleeding so he could make it better. The adrenaline high was wearing off fast, and Tooru was so exhausted he was wavering on his feet. He would stay with Hajime through morning, carry him inside once he was human. They would be alright. It was all going to be alright.

 

Moonlight spilled through a break in the clouds to illuminate his form, and at once Tooru saw the dreadful source of the rattle in his breathing. He froze, not quite believing his tired eyes. Hajime's thick ruff was matted with blood.

 

The wight had not only crushed part of his windpipe, it left deep puncture wounds on his throat from the roots it had sent into his body. It had taken so much of his strength, his vitality, that his heartbeat was almost gone. The slick patch ran all the way down his chest, disappearing into the earth, too much lost.

 

Something between a scream and a sob clawed its way from Tooru's horrified throat. He pressed his shaking hands to the ghastly wound, trying to put pressure on the holes, to slow the bleeding, to have any effect at all. The fierceness welled up in him, the protectiveness that burned through him like a forest fire. This was _his_ wolf, and he would not allow this dream to be reality. He was going to fix this, all of this, he would make it _right_. He had to fix it.

 

A growl rumbled through Hajime's chest. He clung to stubborn consciousness, but it was clear he had strength for little else.

 

"No, no, no," Tooru was snarling. This couldn't be happening. His hands were dreadfully wet, the blood bubbling past his fingers to spatter atop the mint leaves. Home, they smelled like home, his Iwa-chan had come home to him, and this was all he had left to give.

 

The time for waiting was past. If he did nothing, his Iwa-chan would die. His drained body wouldn't have the energy to survive the transformation in the morning, even if he made it through the night. For one brief moment of delirium, Tooru thought about calling an ambulance, but even if there existed a local doctor able to treat a werewolf, let alone one with wounds this severe, Hajime was too large to fit in any vehicle. No veterinarian in a town this small had the kind of equipment to deal with animals of this size.

 

And magic, _magic_ , he could think of no one with capable healing skills – not even his mother, in all her wisdom and generations of power, could do anything over the phone.

 

His mind whirled with spells, everything he had memorized and practiced, every word of weaving and repairing and making connections running behind his eyes. Energy, he needed to give power to make up for what had been lost. He needed to bind them. In a rush, he felt everything welling up to the surface – his intentions, his will, his devotion, his _love_. Everything he had to give. He would give anything, mind, body, and soul. He would give his forever.

 

"Iwa-chan, I love you," he whispered.

 

He pulled his hands back, buried them instead in the wolf's fur, hugging his face close to his breaking heart. The wolf whined, soft and plaintive. He knew, more certain than anything, that the one constant in his life that would never change was the fact that Hajime loved him too.

 

And then Tooru found the knife.

 

The tip of the blade pierced his arm, so cold it burned. He would carve the magic out of his body if that's what it took to use it. He had no intention of dying tonight, but neither would he stand by and let Hajime slip away from him. Their story would not end like this.

 

Tooru dragged the knife down cleanly, gritting his teeth and gasping at the burn of it. It hurt far more than he could have anticipated, and his delirious vision swam. Stars burst white like fireflies behind his eyes as dark red bloomed down his forearm to his wrist, spilling hot and fast. The slippery handle fell from his grasp. If he could fill Hajime with power, if he could bind and seal it, then he'd have the strength to transform back.

 

He pressed his arm to Hajime's mangled throat, gripping a fistful of fur to hold him in place.

 

"Take it," he hissed breathlessly, weaving a word spell as best he knew how and hoping desperately the magic would respond, for once in his life, _please_. "Take everything I have. What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine, so bind them together, make two as one–"

 

Hajime jerked in alarm, barking suddenly as awareness dawned on him. Tooru's grip on his scruff was like iron, holding his feebly struggling head in place. Hajime whined, pleading with him. Tooru swayed, feeling… _something_ , as the world seemed to tilt on its axis and his footing became less solid.

 

"Stay with me," he whispered into Hajime's ear.

 

As cold began to leech into his shivering body, and his vision melted into blurs of colors, Tooru thought back to the first time they'd met, with Hajime holding this very arm, _stay with me_. And so he had. He thought of every morning after a sleepover when he'd wake and the first thing he saw was Hajime's face, nestled close to his. He thought of bumps and bruises, of catching bugs and watching movies and the childhood they'd intertwined until he was no longer sure where one ended and the other began. He thought of feelings shifting and growing, every shy, fumbling kiss, in their budding romance, and the future that lay before them, and how badly he wanted to keep it, just the two of them, taking on the world.

 

And then Tooru was standing in their dream realm, the peaceful place where their lives overlapped. He turned slowly, looking through the blackness at an endless sea of stars.

 

His black dog stood beside him, but not the same as before. There was a wreath of flowers around his neck, mint leaves and lavenders and roses hiding where the wounds had been. Tooru rushed over to him, hands parting the dark fur, looking for signs of hurt. He was whole. The plants were growing directly from his body, their roots holding his throat together like stitches.

 

_You're unbelievable, you know that? You reckless, unbelievable dumbass. When I said you could do anything you put your mind to, this wasn't what I meant._

Tooru sank into the dog's side, burying his face into thick fur and flowers and smiling. He smelled like the garden, like all that had been destroyed was still preserved in him.

 

"You're here," he whispered. "You're still with me."

 

The dog's muzzle crinkled, lips peeling back, teeth flashing in an eerie silent laugh.

 

 _You can't get rid of me that easily,_ Hajime's voice rumbled around him, as though from the stars. _We'll always be together._

 

Then he bowed his head obligingly, acquiescing to Tooru's will. Tooru climbed onto his back, and they took off, exploring the stars of their kingdom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Five years later_

 

 

Tooru rubbed the long scar on his forearm. It had not faded as years passed, still as rose-red as the day he'd cut it, still a perfect match for the scar around Hajime's throat. The binding mark ached from the separation as it always had, but not for much longer. He too felt the wax and wane of the moon now, his bones the most reliable calendar counting the days until his return.

 

He tilted his head back and drew a deep breath, savoring the fresh forest air. He was finally coming home.

 

Tooru had to admit city life had its perks. His sister taught him the joys of 24-hour convenience stores, smart phones, same-day delivery, reliable air conditioning, karaoke, Starbucks, brunch cocktails, and countless other ways to make him even more spoiled than he already was. And there was something freeing about being surrounded by thousands of people who were all strangers, because there were no expectations of him, and he could stand out on his own with no one to compare him to his mother's magic.

 

But as much fun as he had staying with his sister and Takeru while he worked his way through school, Tooru's soft heart was right where he'd left it, and he knew he would return to the secluded little forest town where he wanted to be. A place with no cell phones, buses or trains, but instead werewolves, spells, and spirits. A place where he could see the stars, and track the seasons, and walk barefoot in the grass. His chest ached for it, and his scar was the promise he'd made.

 

He tossed the keys up and down in one hand as he strolled down the footpath. Autumn leaves blew by in brilliant reds, oranges, yellows. There was a chill in the air, promising cold to come. He stopped walking and caught the keys, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 

The cabin was in dire need of repair – weather had broken the windows, sprung leaks in the wood, clogged the gutters with leaves. Winters were mild here, but they would still need to fix it up before frost if they didn't want to be huddled around a kerosene heater all season. And there was Hajime waiting for him, steady and strong and faithful as ever. He leaned casually against the locked door with a tool box and a battered pair of overalls on, ready to do the fixing, looking every inch the country bumpkin he'd become in Tooru's absence.

 

"Good god, Iwa-chan, did you cut the sleeves off that shirt or did they fall off when you flexed," Tooru sang conversationally, as though it hadn't been months since his last visit.

 

Hajime snorted. He pushed off the wall and strode over to Tooru, relieving him of his bag. "So you're a teacher now? Officially?" he asked, bumping his shoulder against Tooru's.

 

"It's official! I'll start at the school next week," Tooru said proudly. "I have glasses and everything. Oikawa Tooru, helpful and kind to all, shaping the minds of today's youth, for the good of tomorrow~"

 

"Can’t believe they're putting you in charge of people's kids," Hajime muttered sarcastically.

 

Tooru tossed his head and scoffed. "Kids love me! I was a delightful senpai, and I'll be a delightful sensei! I know what it's like growing up here, for witches and everyone else. Think of all the wisdom I can impart!"

 

"I weep for the future," Hajime proclaimed, but slid his firm arm around Tooru's waist supportively as they got to the door. Tooru sighed, feeling the constant ache in his scar finally fade. He leaned in closer, eager for contact.

 

Tooru jiggled the key in the rusty lock until the door gave way, swinging noisily open to an empty floor. He swept his arms in a grand gesture, showcasing the tiny dilapidated home they'd both saved up to purchase together.

 

"Welcome home, Iwa-chan," he smiled.

 

Something bright and hopeful spilled over in his chest as Hajime held his waist and kissed his cheek.

 

"Welcome back, Tooru."

 

They sat on the middle of the bare floor, taking stock of the work they'd have to do. Tooru squatted by his duffel bag and fished around his clothes to pull out the gifts his mother had given them. There was a pair of boxed lunches, one with Hajime's name on it, who eagerly snatched it up and began picking through the good parts first. There was a potted mint plant, which Tooru was debating about keeping inside with him, or starting his own humble garden outdoors. Without a magical green thumb, his garden would rely on hard work, but it wasn't like him to shy away from that. And there was a housewarming jar, just like the one his mother made for the Iwaizumi house. He raised it over his head with a triumphant grin, giving it a vigorous shake so the salt sloshed around audibly.

 

"No ghosts allowed in this house!" he cheered. "I'll kill them all myself!"

 

Hajime flicked a piece of rice from his lunch into Tooru's hair. "Put that down before you break it, dumbass."

 

"Grumpy old dog," Tooru complained, sticking his tongue out. He pushed the jar into the far corner of the cabin to work its magic. "Aren't you at least happy we got you a nice backyard to run around in? I'll even toss a ball for you to chase. You'll feel like you're a puppy again."

 

He flopped over onto his back, so that his head rested on Hajime's thigh. Mischievously he wriggled closer, forcing Hajime to look down at him from underneath his food. Hajime sighed and set the food down, knowing full well Tooru wasn't going to let him enjoy his meal.

 

"I'm hungry, Tooru, I worked all morning. Can't you at least wait until after lunch," he grumbled, but his hand came to settle in Tooru's fluffy hair, and they both sighed at the relief that rippled through their bond.

 

"No. Missed you," Tooru whispered.

 

He raised his hand up to stroke the strong line of Hajime's jaw, now rough with stubble, tracing down the muscles of his neck. His fingers brushed over the scar that wrapped around his throat like a collar, and Hajime's breath caught in his throat. Hajime held very still, chin tilted up, allowing Tooru access.

 

A flicker of heat met the pads of his fingers. The red line rippled, changing shape, until flowers pressed their way from beneath his skin, emerging and unfurling in tiny drops of red and white and green. This body bloomed for him.

 

"Missed you too," Hajime murmured, voice low and rough.

 

His hand caught Tooru's wrist, thumb sliding gently down the scar, reaffirming it was his. Tooru felt the same warmth spreading through his arm, tingling and bright. He exhaled shakily, never quite used to the sensation of magic as flowers burst wild and beautiful from where Hajime touched him, along the seal where they'd bound their life forces together.

 

He wasn't entirely certain what this secret would mean for them in the long term – if this was borrowed time. If this magic would run out, one day. Maybe it would return them both to the earth together when that happened. He was alright with that.

 

Hajime moved so he was laying beside Tooru on the cold wooden floorboards. His calloused hand found purchase on the curve of Tooru's hip as he leaned in for a kiss, slow and deliberate and with no hesitation. Tooru leaned eagerly into his touch, hands exploring the familiar landscape of his shoulders, his back, the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

 

His Iwa-chan, his alone.

 

Oikawa Tooru was neither witch nor wolf, nor could he ever be either. But the blood of witches and wolves ran through him and Hajime both, sharing their bodies, sharing their dreams, making them something in between and like nothing else in the world. He knew as long as he drew breath, Hajime did too, and no matter what else changed in their lives, they would always be together, two halves of one whole. Forever.

 

  _fin_. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> now with [cover art](https://iwaoi-horror-week.tumblr.com/post/179731161357/forever-is-a-long-time-but-i-wouldnt-mind), courtesy of the sweetest anon!!!! ;W; ilu


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